One Man's Past
by Bob Lobster
Summary: A Ranma/X-Men crossover - When the present holds only pain, can Ranma find happiness in the past?


One Man's Past  
A Ranma/X-men crossover  
By: Bob Lobster  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Never have, never will.......until I  
take over the world and rule it with an Iron Fist!! WAA HAA  
HAAAAAAAAAAAA  
  
Notes: I just got the idea the other day and had to write it down.  
It's my first fic though so please, be gentle^_^  
  
Chapter 1: Finding The Past  
  
  
  
A flash of light, a quick pop of displaced air and a figure fell  
lightly to the ground. He slowly raised himself up, looking around at  
his surroundings, trying to take in where he had arrived. A great city  
lay in the distance and he already knew that his plan has  
worked........to some degree, at least. No city like that could exist  
unless he had made it. Now to try and implement the rest of the plan,  
to undo what has been done and hopefully change what he knew was to  
come.  
  
He then noticed something lying on the ground in front of him and  
had to resist the urge to cry out in frustration. Sighing, he leaned  
in and picked up the small broken mirror, realizing he must have  
dropped in when he arrived. Sighing, he looked at all the shards of  
glass surrounding the once-powerful artifact. *No return trips, I  
guess. * He thought to himself. *I hope I came back to the right  
place. *  
  
Standing up again he ran a hand through his short hair, sighing  
again as he remembered how long it once was; before the war, before  
the camps. Putting the remains of the shattered mirror in his shirt,  
he turned towards the city in the distance and started his trek,  
hoping he'd be able to find the allies he knew he'd need quickly,  
before it was too late to do any good.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
Several hours later, the young man found himself at the edge of  
the large city, a city the likes of which he hadn't seen since before  
the War. It was at this point that he realized just how hard it would  
be to find anyone in the vast maze of glass, steel and concrete that  
lay before him. Steeling himself, he once again began walking into the  
sprawling city, his eyes darting from side to side, never staying  
still, as if he were attempting to take in every detail of the area  
through which he walked at once. And notice everything he did, from  
the stray dog (shaggy brown in colour with a ratty coat and fur  
missing in spots) picking through a garbage bin to the woman walking  
down the opposite side of the road as him (five foot nine inches with  
her heels, dark green blouse, and blue jeans, with long reddish brown  
hair pulled into a loose pony tail) to the man driving by him in a  
sports car (1976 corvette, cherry red, black hair and sunglasses). All  
these details and hundreds more were picked up, sorted out and grouped  
into two categories - threat or non-threat - before most of them were  
discarded as useless. It was a talent he'd picked up from the years he  
spent on the run during the War. His enemy was ruthless, relentless  
and extremely cunning, so he and his comrades had been forced to be on  
their guard 24 hours a day, seven days a week for the nearly two years  
after he escaped the camps. And as the hounds could be anywhere, they  
were forced to see every detail, notice every movement. So long had  
this been his only means of survival that he stopped noticing he was  
even doing it, the process was just ingrained into his subconscious.  
  
Not that he really needed to worry about it now. Very few things  
in this time period could really hurt him, and those that did tended  
to be a lot less subtle about it, announcing there presence rather  
loudly before attacking, or so he had gathered from the tales he had  
heard of this place and time. Even still, he kept his constant vigil,  
and in the end it paid off, though not quite in the way he would have  
imagined. His mind's quick processing powers instantly added a third  
category, resources, to his sorting process and he quickly bent over  
to retrieve the ten dollar bill laying on the street in front of him.  
As he stood back up inspecting the bill, and wondering at its monetary  
worth in this time period, his stomach took that moment to remind him  
of its existence, rumbling loudly. He thought for a moment to ignore  
it, as he usually would while on the road, but then his father's words  
came back to him, telling him that a martial artist lives by his  
stomach.  
  
*Besides, * he reasoned to himself, *I'll need my strength if I  
run into any trouble. * Having thus decided to give in to his  
stomach's rather unruly behaviour, he placed the bill in the pocket of  
his loose black pants and began searching out a suitable dining  
establishment. In consideration to his current situation however, any  
place that served decent food at relatively cheap prices would suffice  
to satiate his appetite, and a small diner was soon located. Making  
his way to the glass door, his sense of smell immediately informed him  
that he had made the correct decision and his mouth began watering at  
the delicious aroma emanating from the restaurant in question.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
  
James Armstrong was a quiet man. If you asked any of his friends  
or neighbors to describe him, that would be the first thing that they  
would reply: that he was quiet. That's not to say that he was  
uncaring, or antisocial or any of those things oftimes associated with  
being quiet, just that he preferred to think before he spoke, and  
often deferred to other people unless he was absolutely certain about  
the subject of which he was speaking. It came as a bit of a surprise  
to most people who knew him then that he seemed so at home behind the  
counter of his small diner. With his apparent lack of conversational  
skills, most would put it off as impossible that he could have what it  
took to provide a friendly environment to his customers, no matter how  
nice they knew him to truly be. These suspicions were laid to rest  
quite quickly, however, when he began receiving regular customers and  
pulling quite a living out of the small restaurant. What most people  
didn't know was that James was an extraordinarily good judge of  
character and could see what was bothering a person almost instantly.  
Although he didn't talk much, what he did say was almost always  
accurate, and any advice he gave was worth following. People would  
leave his restaurant after talking to him and would genuinely feel  
better about their situations in life, a feeling that kept them coming  
back, and one that was presently helping put James' children through  
school.  
  
It would come as no surprise to anyone who truly knew James (of  
which there were only five, and all were within his immediate family)  
that his senses instantly perked up when he saw a young man enter his  
diner. Dressed in dusty clothes, a red silk shirt of a design he had  
once seen in a window in Chinatown and a pair of baggy black pants, he  
was obviously not wealthy by any standard of measure. If the look of  
hunger on his strong-looking face was any measure to judge by, it had  
been some time since he last had a decent meal, and his shaggy, black  
hair, not long enough by far to be called long but definitely not  
short either, was in severe need of a wash. James quite quickly  
pronounced him, within his mind of course since he would never say  
such a thing out load, as a vagrant.  
  
Not that he had anything against the boy, he seemed as if he kept  
himself in good working order, he didn't seem at all inebriated and  
his eyes had a focus that suggested a serious mind with absolutely no  
influence from foreign substances. It actually made James quite  
curious to know why the young man was living on the street, as he was  
quite convinced he was correct on that regard. He seemed the type that  
would excel at just about anything he did, and it made no sense that  
he would be so down on his luck.  
  
It was at that point that James looked into the boy's eyes, and  
instantly changed his classification of him to man. No boy had eyes  
like that; most men didn't, in fact. Those were the eyes of a veteran  
if ever he saw them; they were the types of eyes that he saw every  
time he visited his father in the retirement home he lived at. Within  
those eyes he saw a soul that seemed to say "I've been to hell and  
back, seen things that would turn most men into quivering fools and I  
survived with my sanity intact." He took a moment to notice the fact  
that the man, though obviously Asian, had eyes more blue than any he  
had seen in the past before dismissing it as irrelevant. Though it was  
odd to see an Asian man with blue eyes, his eyes seemed to fit his  
image perfectly, ice blue eyes to match the warrior's soul. Shaking  
his head slightly to break his reverie, James gave the man a quiet  
smile and greeted him politely, inviting him to sit at the counter,  
and then pouring him a glass of water while the man looked over the  
menu.  
  
As the man walked to the counter, James saw the grace with which  
he moved and knew he had been right on the mark: there was no doubt  
that this man was a warrior. He also saw the power that seemed to  
radiate from his every movement and almost shuddered. Now James was no  
small man, in fact he was rather a bear of a man, standing at six feet  
even and being nearly as broad in the shoulders as two men of normal  
size. He was, however quite certain that this man could grind him into  
the ground at a moment's notice, and yet he found no fear of such a  
thing happening. He felt strangely safe in the man's presence, a  
feeling which only increased when the man smiled kindly at him and  
thanked him in a heavily accented, but obviously benevolent voice.  
  
Deciding that he needed to know more about the stranger in front  
of him, James took the initiative in the conversation for once and  
introduced himself before asking how he could help the man. After a  
moment's pause, in which the man silently studied James, he smiled  
again and answered in his heavily accented but mostly understandable  
English.  
  
"Ranma, Ranma Saotome." The man said and offered up his hand,  
which James gladly shook, "I sorry, I not speaking English very well.  
What food I can get for small money?"  
  
James shook off the proffered apology and immediately offered the  
man his advice on what he would enjoy on his obviously........modest  
budget. Ranma ordered a sandwich from the grill and then sat back,  
studying the restaurant and it's people, though only James was  
observant enough to notice his thorough study, like a general studying  
a potential battlefield before turning back towards James and waiting  
(practically drooling, James noticed) for his food to be ready. In no  
time, Ranma was served and he proceeded to devour his food with a  
gusto that James had never seen before. Sure that his young customer  
was going to choke, James kept a close eye on him,however, to his  
relief Ranma made it through his meal with a seemingly practiced  
efficiency before draining a glass of water followed immediately by  
another.  
  
"Thank you, Armstrong-san, was good food." Ranma said as James  
neared him to clear away the dirty dishes. James smiled appreciatively  
at Ranma for the compliment before asking if he needed anything else.  
Ranma seemed to think the question over for a moment before smiling  
once again and answering. "Hai, Armstrong-san, I looking for  
jaku.....uh, school, called...uh, z'aviers. Umm, you know where school  
is, please?"  
  
Ranma completed the question with a slightly apologetic look,  
knowing that his English skills, or lack thereof, made communication  
between them somewhat strained, but again James took it in stride.  
Unfortunately, not knowing the answer, James was only able to advise  
him to seek out a police officer to ask, or perhaps go to the travel  
bureau three blocks over. Thanking James for his help and getting  
proper directions to the travel bureau, Ranma paid his bill (one  
dollar and fifty-eight cents, significantly lower than he would  
normally charge, but Ranma looked like he could use all the money he  
had) and went about his way. As he walked out of the store, giving  
James a friendly wave before stepping outside, James couldn't help but  
think that this "z'aviers" school, wherever it was, was fortunate to  
have a student like that, and hope that he would once again meet the  
young warrior if only to see how well he succeeded in life.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
  
Studying the street signs carefully, and once again cursing  
himself for not learning to speak better English while he'd had the  
chance, Ranma made his way in the direction in which he was pointed by  
the rather friendly diner owner he had just left. Spotting a digital  
clock on the side of a large building, he noted that it was near six  
o'clock in the evening and thanked his luck that it was summer, and  
thus there would still be light for a few hours yet. He then stopped  
as he remembered to reset the pocket watch he carried with him, in the  
front left pocket of his pants. Staring at the watch, his mind  
wandered back to the day it was given to him, a gift from his wife on  
their one year anniversary, only two months before she was permanently  
taken from him in an ambush by a group of hound-led hunters. He had  
nearly lost his own life that day and had it not been for the intense  
burst of anger and depression that had consumed him at her death he  
probably would have. Even now, he still shuddered when he recalled the  
power of the Shishi-hokoudan he had released against the enemy that  
day.  
  
Shaking his head before the tears could come Ranma quickly set the  
watch to the proper time and, having seen the day and year on a local  
newspaper, date. He then returned the watch to his pocket before  
continuing on towards his destination. Upon reaching the doors of the  
building, Ranma sighed again mentally. He had always hated dealing  
with bureaucrats before the War (after the War began in Japan, there  
was no government to speak of, so it was a moot point) and he highly  
doubted his opinion of them would have changed during their absence  
from his life.  
  
Looking up once, as if to ask for help, Ranma pushed the glass  
door open and walked into the building. The room into which he entered  
was, he had to admit, fairly nice as far as government buildings went,  
though that was still far from making it comfortable. Dimly lit as it  
was, it took Ranma a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the light,  
which was significantly dimmer than the outside sun, even late as it  
was in the afternoon. Once he took in the layout of the building,  
Ranma headed quickly towards to desk which he assumed to be  
information from the sign hanging overhead bearing the sign of the  
question mark. Behind the desk sat a rather pretty woman, older than  
Ranma by five or six years, and having a really bad day by the looks  
of it. She looked frazzled to say the least, probably looking forward  
to the end of what appeared to be a very long day. As she saw Ranma  
approaching, a scowl appeared on her face for the briefest of moments  
before she schooled her features in a manner that only public servants  
could truly pull off and appeared to smile so genuinely that only one  
as observant as Ranma could spot the venom barely held in check behind  
it. As Ranma came within speaking distance he flashed her a warm  
smile, the one he knew had caused more than a few women to melt over,  
hoping it would defuse some of the girl's obvious hostility. He was  
relieved to see her relax slightly as she realized he wasn't going to  
be confrontational and he almost felt bad for the frustration he knew  
she would be feeling when he tried speaking to her in his poor  
English.  
  
"May I help you, sir?" The girl, who's name Ranma noted to be  
Katherine from her nametag, asked, smiling a little more sincerely.  
  
"Yes. I looking for school. Is called Z'aviers. Please can I have  
address?" He could almost see the young lady sag as she realized his  
lack of fluency in her language, but she kept it on the inside and he  
smiled once more at her, this time somewhat apologetically. She  
motioned for him to sit down in the chair opposite the desk and sat  
back down in front of her computer, typing for a bit and bringing up a  
list of local schools.  
  
"You said the name of the school is....Zaviers?" She asked,  
entering in the name as close as she could gather from Ranma's poor  
pronounciation and then awaiting the results. "I don't seem to be  
finding anything under that name."  
  
"I sorry, is hard for me say. Is......how you say....not free  
school, is pay for school." Ranma said, trying to find the best  
English words to describe what he knew to be a private school and  
cursing once again that he had never had his wife's fluency in the  
English language. "Name is starting with 'X' I think."  
  
"A private school you mean?" Katherine asked, and after receiving  
a slightly relieved nod from Ranma she punched the new information  
into her computer, coming up with a list of private schools within the  
city and it's surrounding areas. This didn't narrow the search down  
much, however once she tried starting with the letter x, she was able  
to narrow the list to only three schools. One of the schools on said  
list, was an Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Relieved to have  
found the name of a school, which was no doubt the one he was looking  
for, Katherine quickly verified the name with Ranma and was very  
pleased to see him nod happily at her finding. She then pulled up the  
information on the Xavier Institute, and printed out a copy of the  
address for Ranma's use.  
  
Ranma looked at the address given him and quickly inquired as to  
which direction it was in from where he was. Katherine pulled a map  
from one of her drawers and showed him the exact location of the  
address she had given him, before happily bidding him a good evening.  
Though he was a bit put off by the fact that she saw him away much  
more cheerfully than she greeted him, he understood that she wanted to  
go home and could thus understand her hurry to get him on his way.  
  
As she watched the retreating form of Ranma, Katherine sighed  
slightly. Though happily married for three years now, she could still  
appreciate a fine form when she saw one, and the man that had just  
left her desk was about as fine as they came. Reigning in her raging  
libido, she quickly cleaned up her desk and, having already been  
prepared to leave when Ranma had stepped in, closed her desk for the  
evening. Then she got up and headed towards to door so she could head  
home, promising herself a long cold shower when she got home to  
relieve her mind of visions of strong Asian men with rock hard butts.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
  
Looking at his pocket watch once more, Ranma noted that it was  
only about quarter after six, and that he still had a good three hours  
before sunset. Unfortunately the Xavier Institute was quite a distance  
away, lying in one of the small towns on the outskirts of New York  
City, Westchester to be exact, and even with his substantial speed it  
would take him most of the day to walk there. This was especially true  
since he wanted to avoid the type of publicity that roof hopping in  
the middle of New York would cause. Not that he was even entirely  
certain he could manage a good roof hop on twenty to forty story  
skyscrapers, as much fun as it might have been to try.  
  
Instead, he resigned himself to finding a good place to lay his  
head for the night and so headed towards Central Park, which was close  
enough to walk to while it was still light out. He'd heard in the past  
that this particular park had quite the reputation for being an area  
that one stayed out of at night, but after everything he'd been  
through in his relatively short life it would take a great deal more  
than the threat of a mugger or two to worry him. He had enough faith  
in his ability to know that even asleep no common thug could catch him  
off guard. He'd been getting attacked in his sleep for most of his  
life after all, so a part of him was aware, even when the rest of him  
was unconscious.  
  
It took him less than an hour to reach the park, and then another  
ten minutes to find a spot suitable to spend the night. By that point  
he was getting hungry again, so he used another 2 dollars of his  
rather meager funds to purchase a hotdog and a Pepsi from a local  
vender before heading off to practice some katas until dark. It took  
him a few moments to locate a clearing of sufficient size and vacancy  
to practice without worrying about people getting in the way. Once he  
had located and staked his claim to his practice grounds, he began  
with a few minutes of simple stretching to limber up before launching  
into one of his simpler, ground-based katas, performing it with a  
perfection that would make most masters of the art weep with envy.  
  
When he began his first kata, he was quite alone in the clearing  
aside from the odd person passing by. As his katas began to increase  
in speed and technical complexity, so did the people in the area  
increase in volume. Many passing by stopped for a time to watch the  
young man who seemed to flow through his forms like a majestic dance,  
more a force of nature than anything that could come from man. People  
in a hurry to get home after a long day of work, rushing to see  
children, loved ones or just speeding off on their daily errands  
stopped to admire the beauty inherent in this deadly art. The next  
day, some of the local martial arts dojos would wonder about the  
sudden rise in attendance as people seemed to take a sudden interest  
in the Art, seeing the true beauty of something many thought to be  
violent and barbaric. Ranma realized little of this however, lost as  
he was in his Art. And his it was, he was the master of it, as it was  
the master of him; he moved where the Art told him, and the Art did  
what he asked of it; truly in many ways he was the Art.  
  
Never during that time however, was Ranma unaware of the crowds,  
the onlookers and the admirers, he just chose not to pay attention to  
them, sensing as only he could that they were no threat to him. And so  
time passed, as it is wont to do, people came and went, and Ranma  
danced. Soon the sun began its slow dive beneath the horizon and  
coming back to reality at last, Ranma brought his dance to an end.  
Turning towards the crowd of people, Ranma smiled briefly at those  
that clapped for him before heading on his way, thankful that he had  
remembered to keep his forms within what most people considered the  
norm.  
  
It was not until shortly after the War began that he really came  
to realize just how unusual most people considered his skills to be.  
Not many people in modern times practiced the Art as they did when it  
meant the difference between life and death. These days the Art was  
more to keep in shape and keep some traditions alive than to use as a  
lifestyle as it would have been considered in times long gone. As it  
was, not many people came close to practicing with the same near  
fanatical effort that was put into Ranma's training under his father.  
His skills were therefore significantly higher than that of most  
average martial artists, and the people around him generally expected  
that. It wasn't until after the War began that people began to really  
look at him funny whenever he fought. The whispers began, behind his  
back at school and as he passed on the street. People thought he  
couldn't hear, but his hearing was a great deal better than most and  
he heard everything that was said.  
  
"He's too fast, no human should be that fast."  
  
"He's so strong too, that can't be possible."  
  
"How can any human be so powerful?"  
  
"Maybe he's not..."  
  
"Mutant."  
  
"Freak."  
  
Everyone thought they had him pegged, him and all his "freakish"  
friends. "Mutants, the whole lot of them," that's what people would  
say. What none of them ever realized was that none of them, not a  
single one of the high powered martial artists was a mutant. Not yet  
at least. It was always somewhat ironic to Ranma that it took  
involvement in the War before he truly joined the ranks of the  
mutants. It took the enemy itself to bring forth his mutant gene and  
release his powers, which had lain dormant for the first seventeen  
years of his life.  
  
Shaking himself out of his memories and bitter reverie Ranma  
walked silently to the small area he had found in which to lie down.  
Tucking himself under the cover of a small patch of trees, out of the  
eyes of all those but the most determined of searchers, he made  
himself as comfortable as he could under the circumstances before  
shutting his eyes and quickly nodding off to sleep.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
  
Ranma opened his eyes and looked down at his uncute fiancee where  
she chatted idly with her sister Nabiki on the road next to him. He  
was presently walking home from school, along the fence as was his  
usual method, along with the two Tendo sisters, though the word "with"  
was somewhat subjective as the younger was currently ignoring him  
(again) and the older was busy talking to her sister. So Ranma, as was  
also normal, silently followed behind.  
  
Though on the outside he seemed calm, nonchalantly strolling along  
the fence top, he was actually in quite a bit of turmoil right now.  
He'd had a really bad feeling all day, the kind he generally got right  
before a big fight, and he was still waiting for the attack that would  
herald his next adventure. Now normally that wouldn't be such a bad  
thing; he actually enjoyed his little adventures quite a bit, what boy  
his age wouldn't enjoy all the excitement, especially after the years  
he spent, just him and his dad and one boring training ground after  
another.  
  
That was something most people seemed to misunderstand about his  
life, they all thought that the training trip was one of non-stop  
excitement, constantly learning interesting and dangerous techniques  
and fighting for his life against all kinds of strange creatures. The  
reality of his training was nowhere near so glamorous though, constant  
drills, practicing basic techniques hour after hour, day after day.  
Sure there was the odd cool and dangerous technique, there were a few  
adventures and there were even a couple of strange creatures to fight  
off. Those were however, the vast minority, well the boring repetition  
took up most of the time. Would it be any wonder then, for anyone who  
knew the truth, that now that Ranma was finally getting some  
excitement in his life and a real use for his training he would look  
forward to each little adventure when they came up.  
  
And normally he did look forward to it, cherishing it whenever he  
got that feeling that something was going to happen. This time was  
different though; this time the feeling didn't come with anticipation  
as it normally did, but fear, a deep knotting fear down in his  
stomach. It was a feeling he could easily do without, but one he was  
finding refused to go away, in fact growing only stronger as the day  
progressed. Never let it be said that Ranma Saotome was ruled by his  
fear though (provided it didn't involve a certain four legged animal  
whom we shall not name) and so he walked along the fence as usual,  
completely calm to all those who saw him and silently awaited the  
apocalypse he knew in his heart to be coming.  
  
Despite his readiness for anything, after having fought gods,  
demons and dragons it was hard to be surprised by much after all, he  
still found himself surprised by what dropped out of the sky and into  
his world on that day. His first thoughts were disbelief, nothing that  
big could be real, especially anything man-made; this wasn't an anime  
after all. Real it was however, a robot, as if such a small word could  
describe the shear menace exuded by the metal beast that stood before  
him. The thing was over forty feet tall, and a dark purple in colour.  
It was human-shaped, if a very large human, and stared down at the  
three of them with a coldness that only a construct such as it could  
exude. Ranma stood stunned as the robot seemed to study them for a  
moment, totally unable to move in....fear? No, that couldn't be right,  
Ranma Saotome feared nothing. Awe perhaps? Awe that humans could  
create something so magnificent, and yet so terrifying. No, what truly  
stopped him, what froze him to his spot was horror. Horror because the  
thing that stood before him was known to him. Horror because he had  
heard the tales of what they were and what they were made for; because  
he had seen refugees from the United States that still shivered in  
fear at the very thought of the beast before him.  
  
Sentinels. Mutant hunters. Slaughterers of thousands, perhaps  
millions, no one really knew how many had died in the United States  
under the Sentinel occupation. And that truly horrified Ranma more  
than anything else, that they were here, in Japan. The Government had  
to know what they had done to the United States, if Ranma knew the  
Japanese government had to, and yet they still let these monsters  
enter their homeland. Was the fear of mutants so great, the fear of  
what they could do to humanity, that someone would actually decide to  
risk bringing in these butchers to deal with them?  
  
Mentally shaking himself from his stupor, Ranma quickly leapt down  
in to the street, placing himself between the Sentinel and the two  
still frozen Tendo sisters. It was at that point that the Sentinel  
finally seemed to finish studying them and spoke for the first time in  
its cold, mechanical voice.  
  
"Scan completed. Subject located. Commencing capture procedures.  
Tendo, Nabiki, mutant designation #2453, you are hereby ordered to  
surrender yourself into the custody of this unit for transportation to  
your designated area. Resistance is useless."  
  
Once again, all three of them found themselves frozen, two in  
shock and one in pure primal terror. Nabiki was the first to regain  
her ability to move however, as she began slowly walking backwards  
shaking her head and mouthing small denials though she knew they would  
do no good. This shook Ranma out of his stupor and he turned to look  
at Nabiki, confusion and concern in his eyes. He quickly turns back  
towards the Sentinel as it begins speaking again.  
  
"Tendo, Nabiki, you have ten seconds to comply to this unit and  
surrender yourself. If you refuse, this unit is authorized in the use  
of force to apprehend you."  
  
At this point Nabiki fell backwards, landing roughly on her butt  
and crying out in terror at the thought of the thing before her using  
force on her. Her cry was enough to finally bring both Ranma and Akane  
back to reality and Ranma quickly leapt at the Sentinel, intending to  
finish it quickly before it could fulfill it's mission. His leap  
brought him all the way to the Sentinel's head where he proceeded to  
deliver a powerful side kick, knocking the surprised Sentinel off  
balance a bit, but not hurting it much at all.  
  
*Attacker designation Saotome, Ranma. Possessing active gene?  
Negative. Source of power? Unknown. Conclusion? Proceed with caution,  
use of lethal force in protection of unit authorized.*  
  
Ranma landed and dove to the side, just avoiding the Sentinel's  
retaliatory strike as it fired its hand-mounted energy cannons at him.  
Ranma kept dodging around the blasts as the Sentinel tried its utmost  
to hit him until his luck finally ran out. During one of his leaps, he  
landed on the edge of a small crater left behind from a recent battle  
he had had with Ryoga and he stumbled slightly, just enough for the  
Sentinel to get a quick shot in, striking him on the chest and sending  
him flying ten feet, straight into and through a brick wall. Just as  
he painfully raised his head from the rubble, he saw the Sentinel  
raising its arm to fire off the shot that would finish him off.  
Knowing that he couldn't dodge the blast, he began gathering his  
energies, hoping a Moko Takabishi would be enough to deflect the  
blast, when suddenly it was no longer necessary.  
  
"Shishi Houkoudan!" A voice cried from twenty feet or so to his  
left and a bright green blast struck the Sentinel's arm and knocked  
it's blast off course, where it harmlessly struck the water in the  
canal.  
  
*Attacker designation Hibiki, Ryoga. Possessing Active mutant  
gene? Negative. Source of power? Unknown. Conclusion? This unit is not  
suited to fight two unknown power sources of such high magnitude.  
Obtain Tendo, Nabiki designate #2453 and return to base. Avoid further  
confrontation if possible. Lethal force authorized.*  
  
Looking briefly to the left, Ranma saw Ryoga running in, still  
glowing green from the residual energy of his chi blast, before he got  
back to his feet and began advancing towards the Sentinel, which was  
now moving in the direction of Nabiki once again. She had watched the  
whole proceeding with a sort of horror filled fascination, knowing  
that it was her life that was on the line this time. She had no  
illusions about what would happen if she were taken by the Sentinels.  
Though she had never personally spoken to any American refugees like  
Ranma had, she knew enough about what really happened in the United  
States to know that if the Sentinel killed her, it would be considered  
a blessing, especially with her particular "gift". So it was that when  
the Sentinel turned towards her again she just stood there, too  
terrified to move, though she silently screamed at herself to run.  
  
Ranma and Ryoga ran towards the metal beast as it quickly went for  
Nabiki, both charging up their attacks in an effort to stop it. Both  
boys were confident that together they could defeat the Sentinel,  
however as confident as they were and as able as they were, they were  
unable to foresee what happened next. Shaken loose from her stupor at  
seeing the Sentinel once again charging her sister, Akane knew that it  
was up to her to defend Nabiki, after all, neither Ranma nor Ryoga  
could possibly make it in time to stop the thing. So she did the only  
thing she could, she ran towards the giant robot, arm pulled back to  
deliver a powerful punch and leapt as high as she could towards it.  
The Sentinel however, was no longer going to be taken by surprise and  
had already scanned her and knew she was attacking.  
  
*Attacker designation Tendo, Akane. Possessing active mutant gene?  
Negative. Possessing potential mutant gene? Positive. Conclusion?  
Designate Tendo, Akane expendable. Defend unit with lethal force.*  
  
The Sentinel quickly raised its arm towards Akane's oncoming form  
and time seemed to slow down for Ranma. He saw the rage on Akane's  
face dissolve into terror, he saw Nabiki scream in horror and he heard  
both his and Ryoga's bellow of rage and fear match each other. Then a  
beam of bright red energy left the Sentinel's hand, enveloping Akane's  
body, and for a moment Ranma could see her, glowing bright like an  
angel before her body seemed to dissolve and ceased to exist. Even as  
the hellfire disappeared and the Sentinel turned it's head once more  
toward the two of them, Ranma could already feel his eyes burning with  
tears and his body burning with rage and depression. He could feel  
Ryoga burning as well from where he was next to him and for once he  
couldn't tell whose rage burned hotter, whose depression was heavier.  
Together they released their combined angst and anger towards the  
Sentinel and for a brief moment, the world turned green and everyone  
who looked on was blinded.  
  
When sight was returned, the Sentinel no longer existed.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
  
Ranma woke up screaming Akane's name for the first time in over  
three years. Shaking badly, he tried to contain his emotions before  
they threatened to spill out in the form of tears. His wife had taught  
him that there was nothing wrong with tears, that tears were a natural  
and healthy reaction to the death of a loved one. He refused however  
to demean his memories of his friends and family by breaking down  
whenever he thought of them. He would face his loss like a man, and  
honour those that passed by spending his life keeping what happened  
from ever occurring again. He had sworn this on his wife's grave and  
he meant to keep his oath.  
  
Sitting up gingerly, Ranma looked around, noting how dark it still  
was and realized that it was still only late evening. Realizing that  
he wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon - dreams of the past had  
been few and far between lately but still rarely got back to sleep  
after having one - Ranma decided that he should begin his trek.  
Stretching lightly, he pulled the pocket watch from his pants pocket  
and checked the time, groaning as he realized it was only eleven in  
the evening. *Oh well, at least I'll get there nice and early anyway.  
* Ranma thought to himself as he rose and began a quick kata to get  
the blood moving and wake himself further.  
  
After finishing up a few slow katas and deeming himself  
sufficiently awake, Ranma stepped out of the area in which he had  
slept and walked over to a nearby lamp post, under which he consulted  
the directions the lady at the travel bureau had given him. Orienting  
himself, he started off in the direction that would eventually take  
him to the Xavier Estate.  
  
The night was fairly warm, though not as hot as the day had been,  
making for a rather pleasant walk through the mostly deserted park. He  
still ran across the odd person as he crossed over to the far side,  
but most were either in a hurry to get through and avoid the  
unreputable sort, or they were the unreputable sort. Either way they  
rarely stopped to say hello, and Ranma found himself walking in  
silence for the entire trip out of the park and quite a ways into the  
city proper. As he wondered the darkened streets, he thought back to  
what he knew of the war, and what he would need to change to avoid it  
happening.  
  
He wasn't sure of the exact date, but he knew that the problems in  
the United States began with the assassination of a politician by the  
name of Robert Kelley. Having been performed by a radical mutant  
activist group known as the Brotherhood of Mutants, the group had  
believed that by assassinating Kelley, they could prove mutant-kind's  
superiority over baseline humans. Unfortunately their plan backfired  
quite badly in that Kelley's murder spurred into action politicians  
who had previously stood against him, and set into course the so-  
called "Mutant Registration Act". The act was the first step,  
requiring all mutants to register themselves to the government for  
monitoring purposes. Some mutants naturally refused to register  
themselves, preferring the safety of anonymity, and the government  
decided that more drastic measures were needed. Funded by Shaw  
Industries, the government began mass production of the Sentinels;  
massive robots used to hunt down and apprehend rouge mutants,  
eliminating those that resisted. That was when the War truly began.  
The Sentinels, having been given basically free reign so long as they  
followed their programmed directives: protect human life and control  
the mutant population, began a mass purging of the mutant population  
from the country. Those who resisted were killed mercilessly, and  
those who surrendered were rounded up and placed in concentration  
camps.  
  
Ranma remembered distinctly the day his father found out about the  
actions of the United States. He was eight years old when the War  
began and though it didn't affect him directly until he was much  
older, his father always made a point to bring him to speak with  
anyone who had escaped the War. Not many people knew it, but his  
father was an avid believer in mutant rights, instilling in him a  
sense of right and wrong that he still followed to this day, one that  
respected the rights of all people, humans and mutants alike. It was  
an odd contradiction that his greedy, useless father would hold such  
high ideals, and one that kept him confused about the truth behind his  
father's thoughts for many years. It was those beliefs however, that  
led his father to learn everything he could about what was happening  
in the United States, and in turn teach it to Ranma. The day Genma  
first found out about the Sentinels, he nearly went ballistic,  
destroying huge tracks of forest in his anger and raising Ranma's  
respect for his father's ability ten fold.  
  
It was a few years later, shortly after Ranma had turned ten, when  
they heard the news of the fate of the mutants known as the X-men.  
Genma had been telling Ranma tales of the heroism of the X-men for  
years and they had been almost as big of heroes to him as his father  
was. In fact, at the time his father had just taught him the dreaded  
Neko-ken and after that time the X-men took Genma's position as  
Ranma's hero for a long time to come. It came as a great shock to both  
of them that the prominent and powerful mutant heroes could ever fall,  
but that was the news they received. The mansion that was their  
headquarters, the Xavier Estate, was attacked and no one survived. In  
later years it was rumored that a few of the X-men survived the  
initial attack and fought on for many years to come. Ranma had even  
met the mutant known as Wolverine once when he visited Japan with his  
job in the Canadian Resistance. At the time however, it was thought  
that all had perished and Genma and Ranma had personally held a  
memorial service in honour of the lost heroes.  
  
Not much was heard after that point; escapees became few and far  
between as the Sentinels took more and more control over the country,  
however, there were rumors of experiments held on mutants to turn them  
into what became known as "hounds". Hounds were ruthless mutant  
hunters who used their gifts to track down rogue mutants for their  
Sentinel masters. Through a mixture of torture and drugs they were  
made into mindless killers whose only thought was to obey their  
masters. Ranma shuddered at the memories of his few run-ins with the  
hounds, trying to forget the feeling of being hunted, not only by your  
own kind but sometimes your former friends.  
  
It wasn't until he was sixteen that the War became a true part of  
his life, when the Sentinels were brought over to Japan. For years,  
the Sentinels had controlled all media out of the United States,  
masking the true horror of the War and showing only what was necessary  
for people to believe that Sentinels were a good addition to any  
countries security. Lots of people knew better of course, people like  
Ranma who had spoken with the refugees and been raised his entire life  
knowing the truth about mutants, that they were merely another branch  
of humanity. Much of the public, however, was completely unaware of  
the horrors occurring just across the ocean, having only seen what the  
government would let them see. To this day, Ranma still couldn't  
figure out what had caused the Japanese government to pick up the  
Sentinel program, knowing what he did and knowing that the government,  
with its vast resources, had to have known what was truly happening.  
Was it that the Japanese were truly so conformist that they would  
embrace the devil itself to rid the country of these "outsiders"? Or  
perhaps they just believed that they would be strong enough to control  
the Sentinels where the Americans failed. All Ranma knew for sure was  
that nine months after his arrival in Nerima, the Sentinels became a  
permanent part of his life. Their first attack, aimed at Nabiki,  
killed Akane and took the combined effort of him and Ryoga, both in a  
rage empowered berserker state, to destroy. The attacks just became  
worse from there on.....  
  
Shaking himself once more from his thoughts before he managed to  
depress himself into a Shishi Houkoudan, something that was sure to  
attract the attention he was hoping to avoid, Ranma looked around to  
see where he was. He was surprised to find that he had walked for a  
couple of kilometers, it having been quite some time since he had  
truly been that unaware of his surroundings. He blamed it on the trip  
through time and the fight that preceded it. It had taken quite a bit  
out of him to survive that final fight and he had barely managed to  
lived long enough to make the trip. All the others in his group had  
been less lucky; him being the only survivor of the attack. Studying  
his surroundings he found himself in a nicer area of town, though not  
by much. The area seemed to be predominantly nightclubs and bars,  
though some decent looking apartments were dotting the street as well.  
Walking and looking around as he was, he easily felt the strange  
energy in the air, as if something powerful was nearby. Extending his  
senses outward, Ranma felt a rush of dark energy followed by the quiet  
but violent passing of a person nearby. It felt similar to what  
Hinako's attack had felt like, only with a much darker, almost evil  
tinge to it.  
  
Changing his direction, he began hurrying towards the source of  
the dark power, knowing he was too late to save the poor soul he had  
felt die but hoping he could stop any others from sharing his or her  
fate. He was about halfway to the disturbance when he felt more than  
heard a scream of shock and rage. *Apparently the body's been found,*  
Ranma thought to himself, *and by a fairly high level telepath to  
judge by her mental scream. Anyone with the slightest bit of training  
could have sensed that mental shout a moment ago.*  
  
Speeding up Ranma hoped that whoever the telepath was, she, and  
this time he was sure it was a she, could hold off the source of evil  
until he got there to help. Spotting an apartment, and sensing the two  
energies colliding, one blazing like the sun while the other seemed to  
absorb that light into a blackness deeper than any pitch, Ranma  
wondered briefly what it was he was getting himself into before  
realizing that the light was quickly losing to the dark and would soon  
be beaten. Leaping up and crashing through the window to where he  
sensed the energy, Ranma took a moment to get a feeling for the  
situation.  
  
The apartment was quite large, and would have looked nice had it  
not been for the pitched battle taking place in the middle of it. Two  
woman; one with extremely short hair, as red as his girl side's, and  
wearing a purple bathrobe was seemingly doing battle with the floor  
itself as it rose in a tidal wave towards her, holding her in place  
with two wooden hands reaching out from below her to take her feet;  
the other with long black hair and wearing what looked to be a black  
evening gown was obviously the one controlling the rebellious floor as  
she laughed insanely at the redhead, while making gestures which the  
floor seemed to follow. At that moment a gas line ruptured and a tower  
of flames shot forth from beneath them, startling the redhead but  
seemingly delighting the black haired one. At this point the black-  
haired one seemed to attack the redhead telepathically, causing her to  
fall to her knees and cry out for help.  
  
Deciding that this was his cue to make a dramatic entrance, Ranma  
gathered a small amount of his chi energy up and fired it at the  
black-haired witch, blasting her backwards into a wall, and releasing  
her hold on the redhead.  
  
"Who are you to challenge one such as Selene, who has ruled  
empires? Speak up, so I know the name of the fool I am about to kill."  
The black haired woman pompously demanded as she pushed herself back  
to her feet, glaring at Ranma.  
  
"Ranma Saotome." Ranma almost casually stated as he walked toward  
her through the blazing inferno. "But for you, Death."  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
  
  
Ending Notes: So, what did you think? For those wondering, in the  
Ranmaverse this takes place after the series.......or significantly  
before depending on your point of view, though when exactly will  
become clearer in the next few chapters. In the X-men universe, it  
takes place around Uncanny X-men 184. For those of you who know X-men  
well enough, you should be able to place the last scene above...or am  
I the only one that's read them that many times^_^;  
  
Many thanks go out to my prereader Zelas, without whom this would be  
horrendously full of mistakes.   
  
Any C&C would be appreciated, as it is my first real post. If you  
wanna get in touch with me by email it's ranikkoku@hotmail.com and  
eventually this will be up on my page at www.geocities.com/ranikkoku  
Thanks  
Bob Lobster 


End file.
